Divisions of Earth and Sea
The night’s edge
As buffer between us —
The flame of the moon
On gray starry waves
Compress eras like
A bride a bridge
For two philosophies
Two conceptions of roles
And what is veritas
You on the staccato shore
Me on the drawn out omen’s cliff
As someone who parallels
And morphs
Sings hosannas obliquely
Before and after
The jazz of laughing crises
I must
Find a way
To lift three curtains
And jail the drive to fall
It matters not if you’ve moved on
It makes no difference if you’ve run away
My fiction sells me fate
For a pence
And fate removes the sting and the nail
How long before you look
At the one who dares with you
Dares all like an assassin
Without weapons
How much longer will the fiction
Of our
Caustic divorce
Prevent the resurrection?
—by Douglas Pinson